


15x06 Coda

by beefcakemish



Series: Misc. Drabbles [30]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Domestic Fluff, Episode: s15e06 Golden Time, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:38:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21588172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beefcakemish/pseuds/beefcakemish
Summary: Here's my super late coda for 15x06.Heidi told me to make it fluffy, so we compromised with 90% fluff and 10% angst.Dean misses Cas, Cas misses Dean. They both find ways to cope with the absence.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Misc. Drabbles [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1203301
Comments: 2
Kudos: 69





	15x06 Coda

** _Then_ **

Dean stops for a moment after finishing his third mug of egg-nog to take in the room around him. Half-burnt out strings of lights hang from various fixtures and hooks around the room. Music plays quietly from the stereo on the table in the corner. The Christmas tree Sam demanded they get is poorly decorated with ornaments at least fifty years old they found buried in a closet of the bunker. Not to mention the whole thing is leaning slightly to the left, because after twenty minutes of dicking around with the tree stand and having Cas direct him ‘Left. No, back to the right. One inch more.’ Dean had said ‘Fuck it!’ and gave up. Wrapping paper is still scattered across the room from the small pile of presents that sat under the tree.

Cas is warm as he leans up against Dean, closer than he would normally be in the presence of Sam and Jack. As Cas lowers his mug to his lap, he curls further into Dean’s side, tucking his feet up next to his legs on the couch. Dean turns toward him, placing a brief kiss to Cas’ forehead. He catches Sam’s eyes from across the room, and returns the small smile his brother is sending him. It’s not really public knowledge that he and Cas are a thing now, but Dean thinks Sam has known longer than he himself has.

A few minutes later, Sam and Jack are excusing themselves for the night, feigning tiredness, boredom, or some combination of the two. Dean suspects it’s more than that, given the double take Sam does as they leave the room, but he won’t protest the extra time alone with Cas, especially not with the mood Cas seems to be in, and the comfortable atmosphere they’ve built in the room.

When the room has cleared, Dean rests his head on top of Cas’, closing his eyes and enjoying the silence. Between the warmth of Cas next to him and the bourbon spiked eggnog, Dean could almost fall asleep. A soft touch on his leg, however, has him wide awake and lifting his head from its resting spot. Cas is tracing the pattern on Dean’s pajama pants, the same spot, over and over again, until Dean is so hyper-fixated on the touch and watching the motion of his finger, that he completely misses Cas talking to him.

“Dean? You do like them, don’t you?” Cas questions as he sits up, pulling back a few inches to look at Dean.

“Hmm? Like what, Cas?”

“The pants?” He asks again, looking back down as he continues to trace the pattern there.

“Oh. Yeah, of course I like ‘em.”

Cas smiles to himself and returns his head to Dean’s shoulder.

“I thought they might be a little, loud, for you, but you seemed to like the socks with the noodles and take out containers on them. I also know how fond you are of hot dogs.”

“Well nothing beats my pie tie, or my bacon shirt, but these are a close third. I’ve been working on a whole bank of wiener jokes since I tore open that wrapping paper.”

“I’m sure your brother will be thrilled to hear the lewd jokes you’re bound to come up with.”

Dean laughs and wraps his arm around Cas’ shoulders, using his free hand to lift Cas’ chin towards his, kissing him soundly, before pulling him further into his chest.

“I really do like them, Cas. You know I’ve spent more nights in dirty jeans and a flannel than I have in anything actually comfortable.”

“You should indulge in comfort more often. It’s more important as you grow older to allow your body to rest. Small items such as these pants will let your mind relax even further.”

“Yeah, well I still have a few millennia to catch up to you, old man.”

Cas lifts his head to glare at Dean.

“I hardly think that comparison is legitimate. I felt no effects of aging until _after_ I met you.”

Dean leans in to kiss the little wrinkle between Cas’ furrowed brows.

“You’re only as old as you feel, sweetheart. Plus, all those cartoons you watch’ll keep you young.”

“Let’s not pretend that your gift to me wasn’t so much a gift for me, as it was for you as well.”

Pulling back in mock offense, Dean’s jaw drops at the accusation.

“I would never! Okay, yeah, maybe I would. But come on, those are some of my favorite Saturday mornings. Waking up with you, binge watching some 60’s cartoon until Sammy pounds on the door that we’ve got some place to be.”

“The next time you claim not to be sentimental, I’ll kindly remind you of this conversation, Dean.”

Dean groans and moves to get up, shoving at Cas to get the other man off of him. Cas grabs him by the back of the shirt before he can completely stand up, and pulls him back onto the couch.

“You’re insufferable. I love you, but you’re insufferable.”

Smiling, Dean leans into Cas, returning the sentiment through his kiss.

** _Now_ **

Dean sits on the edge of his bed, staring at the ground between his feet, ignoring the empty space on the mattress behind him. He’d swore he was hungover if he hadn’t already drunk the last of the alcohol two days ago.

How many days has it been now? Three? Fifteen? Too many.

He makes his way to the kitchen, ready to raid cupboards for anything to fill the void.

Sam walks in as he’s two handfuls into a bag of cereal, no stopping point in sight.

“Dude, you’re still wearing your pajamas? It’s been like a week. The least you could do is change them.”

Dean scoffs as he looks down at the sleeves of his robe, the chest of his t-shirt, his legs and socked feet.

“I’ve changed them.”

“No. No you haven’t. You’ve been wearing those hot dog pants for days, man. Believe me, I remember.”

“Yeah, whatever, bitch.”

Grabbing the full box of cereal, Dean shuffles back to his room, locking the door behind him. He reaches into the box for another handful before dropping it towards the foot of the bed, and grabbing a pillow to elevate himself as he lays down.

The TV flickers to life when he presses the power button, and a couple of seconds later the DVD he was watching last night starts playing. He vaguely remembers the episode starting before he finally fell asleep. At least it’s something to do. He can’t focus on the empty space in his bed so long as he draws his attention elsewhere.

Cas turns the ignition in his car, plunging his surroundings into near complete darkness. The light bulb above his room door is burnt out, and the only other external light is missing its bulb completely. He pulls his bag from the back seat and walks towards the door, key in hand.

The door swings open, and everything is dark. There’s no one else here but him, and the silence is deafening. Years ago, he welcomed the quiet, it gave him peace; now it creates an itch under his skin he can’t explain. He needs to go back to the bunker, as much as it pains him to admit. His grace is fading, that much has become obvious. Most notable is how muffled his connection to Dean has become. The first few days after he left was like a constant battle in his head, forcing Dean’s thoughts and prayers to the deepest recess of his mind, trying to make their separation more bearable.

With their connection now at the weakest it’s been in years, Cas needs to return to Dean, needs to reassure himself the man is okay, despite his anger at the situation. And with his grace fading, he knows it’s unlikely he’ll survive long on his own as a human.

After he removes his suit and tie and redresses in the sleep clothing he had been gifted by Sam some months ago, he clicks on the TV ahead of him, and changes it to the only channel he knows by memory. An old cartoon is playing, something he can’t remember the name of, and as Cas pulls the blankets to his chin, letting the background noise lull him to sleep, he resolves to head back to Kansas in the morning.


End file.
